


Rum Runner

by DayenuRose



Series: Rogue/Gambit Week 2021 [3]
Category: X-Men (Comicverse), X-Men - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - No Powers, Alternate Universe - Prohibition Era, Brotherhood of Mutants (X-Men), F/M, Post-World War I, Rogue/Gambit Week 2021, Rum Runner, Smuggling, The Brotherhood of Mutants is a Family
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2021-02-28
Updated: 2021-02-28
Packaged: 2021-03-12 13:07:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,273
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29760096
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DayenuRose/pseuds/DayenuRose
Summary: Anna Marie doesn’t really fit in with life aboard her adopted mother’s rum runner or among Mystique’s Brotherhood. Meanwhile, the rum runner is about to receive a notorious visitor in the form of Remy LeBeau.  A Prohibition Era, non-powered Romy AU.Part of Rogue/Gambit Week 2021Day 7 - Alternate Universe
Relationships: Remy LeBeau/Rogue
Series: Rogue/Gambit Week 2021 [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2183634
Comments: 2
Kudos: 15





	Rum Runner

Over the last half hour, the wind had changed direction, blowing in from the north. The change in weather had brought with it a cold misting of almost rain.

Anna Marie hurried down the pier to the boat docked at the end. She tucked her chin deeper into the muffler around her throat and clutched the package wrapped in brown paper tighter to her chest. If the temperatures continued to drop, the gathering mist would turn to ice. As it was, the wooden dock was already growing slippery.

“You’re late,” St. John Allerdyce called from the small boat waiting for her. “The deliveries arrived over an hour ago. Where were you?”

“Ah had personal business,” she snapped. St. John might be part of Mystique’s ‘Brotherhood,’ but it did not mean Anna Marie was beholden to answer his prying.

Gingerly, St. John reached out to help her board the boat which ferried them between shore and _Destiny_ , Momma’s schooner. The small boat rocked as she settled herself among the tarp covered packages. Even before she’d arrived, the boat sat low in the water. This supply run had been an unusually large one since this would be their last chance to restock for several days. With the dawn, they'd be headed back south down the rum row.

“Careful,” he sniped. St. John sat stock still while he waited for the boat to steady. Only to flinch every time water splashed up over the sides. “Raven will kill us if all the supplies go overboard.”

Anna Marie shook her head. “Ah don’t understand how someone who hates water as much as you can manage to live aboard a ship.”

Grunting, St. John reached for the stern to start the motor. It sputtered then roared as they pulled away from shore.

“Ya smell like smoke. Have ya been starting fires again?” Anna Marie pulled her coat tighter around her shoulders in an attempt to ward off the damp and the chill.

“None of your business. Why are you late? I heard there might be trouble at the party tonight—the kind that Mystique wants to know about yesterday.” St. John offered as though that might be enough to prompt a response out of her.

She didn’t even bother to shrug as she turned her attention to the knotted twine keeping her package sealed. St. John was always bringing back reports of potential trouble whenever he returned from shore. It’s the primary reason Momma kept sending him even though each trip was a risk for potential trouble of the combustable variety.

“Don’t you want to know, luv?”

“You’ll tell me eventually.” Anna shrugged and stared out into the murky grey horizon. “Even if you don’t tell me now, if it’s real trouble, Momma will let me know.”

St. John simmered, his irritation brewed visibly below the surface. Pulling rolling papers and a pouch of tobacco from the inside pocket of his jacket, he proceeded to roll a cigarette. When he finished, he clamped the cigarette between his lips and sheltered the end from the elements with a hand. With a flick of his thumb, St. John lit a match and allowed it to burn low between his fingers before lighting the cigarette and inhaling.

After several slow drags of the cigarette, he exhaled sharply. His breath, visible in the cold, mingled with the smoke. “I almost left without you.”

Anna Marie scoffed. “No, ya wouldn’t have left me.”

As vitriolic as Raven’s temper was known to be, particularly when she was taken unawares, and however important the news was, St. John would never risk leaving Anna Marie behind. Momma was protective to the point of over-bearing about matters concerning her adopted daughter.

He grunted before muttering under his breath, almost inaudible under the howl of the wind and the roar of the engine. “I would have come back for you.”

They traveled in silence as each were lost in their own thoughts. When a good mile and a half out from the shore, a strong gust of wind tore at the tarp, exposing the shifting crates to the elements. St. John froze, with panic etched on his face and his fingers curled tightly around the side of the boat. Not expecting him to help, Anna Marie reached past him and grabbed for the tarp. She refastened the loose corner before the crates could fall overboard with the next swell.

“Ya still smell like smoke.” The scent of fresh fire and charred wood was imbued in the fabric of his jacket. Not even the salty sea air and damp could dispel the scent. Raven had forbade him from stating fires when on business for her. If she caught wind of him indulging in his pyromania, he’d be forbidden from going to shore again. It was the worst punishment Momma could devise for him.

Anna Marie waited, knowing he’d either tell her why or try to distract her with his news, simply to keep out of Raven’s bad books. He was too much of a landlubber to risk Mystique’s wrath.

He sighed heavily and tossed the spent cigarette out to sea. “You ever hear of Gambit? Rumor has it that he’s in town and planning to come on out to the ship tonight.” His lips curled into a smug smile of someone cherishing the spill of gossip.

“Who?” A wrinkle creased her brow as she mentally reviewed the list of guests whom regularly attended Momma’s soirées aboard the rum runner. Troublesome company wasn’t anything new. Though nom de guerres usually meant that Momma or the boys had previous experience with him. Which implied either organized crime, or the Great War.

There were always shady types coming aboard. Some worked for Mystique. Others wanted to make deals with her. Some wanted to steal business away from her. While others used her illicit operations as cover for their own illegal dealings. By the way St. John said the name, Gambit was likely an independent operator. One with motivations neither St. John, nor, more importantly, Mystique could predict. That’s what made him trouble in their eyes. Still, another player on the board didn’t mean anything to Anna Marie. Momma kept her out of the most dangerous aspects of the family business.

Anna Marie spent most evenings working the room, keeping an eye out for trouble. She made certain the most affluent and important guests (often one and the same, but not always) received priority treatment. That the ones who were there solely for alcohol and a good time never suspected the shady underdealings going on behind closed doors and below decks. Every once in a while, Momma sent Anna Marie in as a distraction— a pawn to wheedle information from a mark who was usually too cautious or two wise to fall for Mystique's usual tricks. People often let down their guard around Anna Marie, thinking her too naïve and innocent to be of any real trouble. Later when Mystique swept in to take advantage of the information Anna Marie had gained or when Momma eviscerated the mark who thought to destroy Mystique first, they were almost always taken by surprise. And no one ever thought to pin the betrayal on Anna Marie.

With a nonchalant shrug, she feigned uninterested. She tugged on the cuff of her glove. “Sorry sugah, never heard of him. Should I?”

“Nah, luv, though you’d probably recognize him if you saw him. He’s been aboard before.” St John adjusted the rudder, realigning the path of the boat. “He doesn’t usually come this far north. He’s a swamp rat, thief, gambler, and conman. Considers himself a bit of a ladies man.”

“Doesn’t sound like someone Momma would want me to associate with.” A spark of mischief reflected in her eyes. It was too easy to get a rise out of St. John.

“Now don’t you be getting any ideas. I don’t want Mystique to throw me overboard just because you decided to run off with ol’ Remy LeBeau.”

“Oh, him,” she said with a tone of wry derision which made it obvious St. John had nothing to fear. Raven would definitely want to be warned before the thief boarded her ship. If Momma wasn’t careful, the scoundrel would walk off with more than his share of the evening’s take. “You’re right Sinjin. Momma’s gonna want to know.”

Three miles out from shore and just into international waters, the rum runner grew large as they pulled alongside the ship.

“Oi. You’re late,” Dominick called from the deck. He lowered the ropes and St. John proceeded to tie the lines.

“Blame the Princess,” St. John snarked once they were onboard the ship. He was obviously felling bolder now that he had a compatriot in sight. “She had ‘personal’ business.”

“If that’s how ya feel, you boys can unload the supplies by yourself. Ah’ll be in my cabin.” Anna Marie tossed her head back and marched sure footed across the deck.

The boys didn’t attempt to stop her. There were some advantages of being Raven Darkholme’s adopted daughter. Besides, St. John was right. They had gotten back to the ship late and she had to get ready for tonight. With this evening being their last night of the northern leg of their route, Momma had planned a grand party aboard her rum runner. Of course Momma being Momma, she was using the soiree as cover for her other illicit work. With so many people enjoying the prohibited libations, no one would realize they were being cover for Raven’s real business—smuggling weapons and providing information to the highest bidder.

Tomorrow, they would start their trip back south, much closer to the places Anna Marie considered home. She couldn’t wait to be out of the cold.

~x~x~x~x~x~

A firm, solid knock sounded at Anna Marie’s door. It was a staccato and sharp in a misguided attempt to be gentle. There was only one person who knocked like that and she expected to be answered without delay.

“Come in, Momma.” Anna Marie sat straighter at the small desk in her cabin. The room was scarcely large enough to contain the narrow cot, desk, and sea chest. A small bookshelf was tacked to the wall over the bed and a mirror hung over the desk. It wasn’t much, but at least she had a room to herself.

She exchanged the volume of poetry she’d been reading for the list tonight’s activities—both the official program and Momma’s secret dealings. It was Anna Marie’s job to be Mystique’s eyes and ears, gathering the secrets no one meant to spill. Most nights, nobody noticed their hostess’ unremarkable daughter, and if they did, they never mistook her for anyone of importance.

Raven swept imperiously into the room. She draped an emerald green dress across the cot. The dress was more elegant than anything Momma usually provided for Anna Marie to wear. Its color was bold, the cut followed the latest trends. Anyone wearing this dress was meant to be to looked at. Instead of working from the shadows like usual, all eyes would be on Anna Marie tonight. Dresses like this one only came out when Raven had a job for her.

Rolling her eyes, Anna Marie let out an exasperated sigh before she could stop herself. Raven clicked her tongue against the back of her teeth and stepped behind her adopted daughter. The mirror reflected the images of the two women. Compared to her Momma’s effortless elegance, Anna Marie felt young and plain. Raven had developed a series of personas with which allowed her to effortlessly slip in and out of all levels of society as if she belong to each one. She shifted from one role to the next as if she were changing shoes. Anna Marie was always Anna Marie no matter where she was or who she was with. Even in Raven’s elegant dresses, Anna Marie would still be the same bold, brash, and honest Southern girl she always was.

“What do you want Momma?”

Raven picked up the hairbrush from the desk and worked it through Anna Marie’s wild curls. The white streak which made her easy to identify in a crowd fell across her face, obscuring her view of the mirror.

“Allerdyce said you were late coming back from your errands.” Raven said in a deceptively light tone, as though she were simply making conversation without any ulterior motives. That only worked if you didn’t know her as well as Anna Marie did. Raven had no use for small talk when it came to people under her charge.

“Sinjin is a snoop. He should mind his own business,” Anna Marie huffed. She laced her fingers together and rested them in her lap.

“His inability to do so is one of his more useful qualities.” The brush caught in a tangle of knots. While Raven none too gently pulled the brush through the snarl, the hair yanked sharply against Anna Marie’s scalp. Momma didn’t believe in softening the blows—you either became tough like her or you were left behind. Anna Marie dug her fingers into her thighs to keep from making a sound or fidgeting.

When Momma had gone off to the Great War, she left Anna Marie under Irene’s care. And, when Mystique had returned, she’d come with her Brotherhood in tow. A group of men who were barely more than boys with eyes haunted by what they’d seen and done. It was no different for Momma. She had never been soft, but when she returned she was hard. Sharp and brittle. Irene’s death had only made things worse.

“What were you doing on shore?” Momma pushed.

This time Anna Marie kept her temper in check. “Nothing dangerous Momma. After running your errands, I stopped by McCoy’s Bookstore. You know he has the best selection of books of anywhere along our travels and we won’t be up this way again until next spring.”

Raven stopped brushing her daughter’s hair and picked up the book Anna Marie had been reading before her mother’s interruption. “ _Sonnets from the Portuguese_?”

“It’s just poetry, Momma.” Anna Marie returned the book to the desk. “Ya know how Mr. McCoy likes to talk. Sometimes a visit to his shop can take a while, but he always had good recommendations. He’s been telling me about _The Black Moth_ for a while now and the book finally arrived”

“Oh?” Raven turned up her nose at the Georgette Heyer novel placed on top of the stack of new books. It was probably a good thing Momma couldn’t tell from the cover alone that the book featured the story of a dashing and daring young highwayman. 

Her momma had little use for the ‘frivolous’ romances and pulp adventures which Anna Marie adored. Raven kept hoping her daughter would grow out of these stories, though Anna Marie doubted she ever would. If Momma had her druthers, all Anna Marie would ever read were philosophies and tactics, manifestos and creeds.

“Ah know you’re not fond of my novels, Momma, but they remind me of Irene. While you were gone, she liked it when Ah read to her….” Anna Marie didn’t like playing the Irene card very often. At the mention of Irene’s name, Momma grew even more distant. A sliver of pain reflected in her eyes before the emotion was it was locked down and shuttered behind a wall of cool detachment. 

“Yes, yes, I know.” Raven waved off her daughter’s explanation. “Very well. You can continue your reading later. I need you to work tonight.”

“Thought Ah was always working your parties.”

“You know what I mean child,” Raven snapped.

Anna Marie left the wry tone out of her voice. Of course Momma had something for her to do, she’d known since she’d seen the dress. “Who would ya like me to entertain this evening?”

“I believe Allerdyce already told you we are expecting a Mr. LeBeau to pay us a visit tonight.” Raven’s voice grew cold as ice. “I don’t trust him. I want you to keep him busy and away from my meeting with Magnus. Find out what LeBeau’s after.”

The last part wasn’t a request.

“Why me?”

“Because, my dear, you are a charming, beautiful young lady and LeBeau has one weakness—a beautiful woman. He will be putty in your hands and I know I’ve taught you well enough that you will not fall for any of his smooth talk or charms.” Raven retrieved the hairpins from the desk and began to pin up Anna Marie’s long curls into an updo which resembled the popular shorter, sleeker styles. “You really ought to let me cut your hair.”

“I like it long.” Anna Marie brushed a stray white lock behind her ear. Her fingers trailed along the silken curls. The state of her hair was a never ending debate between mother and daughter. “Why don’t ya cut yours?”

“The style would not flatter me.” Raven sniffed derisively. Though she would never admit it, she was exceedingly vain about her looks—including her long, straight, deep red hair. “Besides, there would be little point to the exercise. LeBeau knows me. He would see straight through any attempts I made to ferret out his reasons for being here.”

Anna Marie raised a skeptical eyebrow. It wasn’t often that her momma admitted to not being able to manipulate someone, particularly when she put her mind to it.

“But you, my dear, have that perfect combination of feistiness and innocence that he finds irresistible. If anyone can discover his secrets, I am certain it will be you. There you go.” Raven wedged the final pin into Anna Marie’s hair. The end scraped against her scalp and pulled tight at the roots.

Anna Marie studied her reflection in the mirror. Momma certainly was skillful when it came to changing appearances. If it hadn’t been for the white streaks, Anna Marie almost wouldn’t have recognized herself in the mirror. Her hair had been tucked and pinned into place with such skill no one who didn’t already know would ever guess how long or wild her curls actually were. At least the hair around her face was left loose enough to lend her face a touch of softness.

Careful so not to muss any of Raven’s hard work, Anna Marie massaged her scalp with her fingertips. “Ya gonna do my makeup too?”

“Stop that,” Raven swatted at her daughter’s hands. “None of that lip young lady. I have too many things to do before our guests start arriving to keep an eye on you as you get ready. I will leave you to finish dressing on your own. Find me before you present yourself to our guests.”

“Yes Momma,” Anna Marie lowered her eyes and answered demurely.

Softening, Raven cupped Anna Marie’s cheek with her hand. The light reflected off her hazel eyes making them appear almost gold. “My dear, never forget, everything I do is to make life better for us.”

“Ah know Momma. And Ah do appreciate it.” Anna Marie stood and kissed Raven on the cheek. “Now, ya ought to get going. Ah promise everything will go according to plan tonight.”

“That’s my girl.” Raven’s smile flickered brief and genuine before settling back into that impassive, calculating mask she wore the majority of the time. Without a backwards glance, Raven left the cabin, leaving Anna Mare alone with the green dress, a pile of books, and a stagnant future.

~x~x~x~x~x~

Remy grinned to himself as he boarded the rum runner. Tonight was going to be a good night. He could feel it in his bones. Energy ran through his veins, nearly exploding out of him. He had a a pocket full of cash, a new deck of cards, and his eyes on the prize.

The Brotherhood boys stalked the deck trying to blend in with the gathering guests, but failing miserably. With their overly polished shoes and their suits which didn’t fit quite right, there was no mistaking them for anything but the help. Then again, Remy had too many run-ins with them over the years to see them as anything other than what they were—Mystique’s lackeys. Though tonight, they would serve his purposes without even realizing it.

“Evenin’ Pyro,” Remy tipped his hat in a jaunty greeting.

“What are you doing here, Gambit?” St. John grimaced. He ran a hand through his hair, creating greater chaos in his already unruly hair. Despite the blond’s attempt at taming his wild mop of hair with a liberal application of pomade, his hair refused to lay flat.

“Is dat any way to treat an old friend?” Remy looped an arm around the St. John like they truly were old chums rather than the occasional reluctant ally. “Point me to the gaming table and the booze and I’ll be out of your hair.” 

Remy’s gaze slid along the deck, checking out the guests for competition, obstacles, and... _Oh my...._ He couldn’t help but stare as his eyes landed on the most beautiful femme he’d ever seen. In contrast to the popular fashion of the day, the rich green dress flattered the generous curves of her body. He much preferred this look to the more fashionable attempts to flatten and minimize curves. And the green complimented her creamy, fair skin, while the chill in the air brought a rosy glow to her cheeks. Soft curls of white hair framed her face, lending her an air of innocence. Though, even from this distance, he noted the sharp intelligence and passion gleaming in her eyes. She was definitely not a femme to under estimate. 

His heart raced as he took in the sight of her. It was all he could manage to stay put and not pursue his desire to become better acquainted with the femme. His hands shook with a bout of nerves like he hadn’t experienced since his earliest days as a pickpocket on the streets of New Orleans. In an attempt to disguise the fact he was anything other than calm, cool, and collected, he slipped his hands into his pockets. Remy allowed himself the indulgence of one last, long, slow perusal of the femme. 

She turned her head in time to catch his lingering, appreciative leer. Her eyes sparked with a verdant fire. A warning? An invite? From here, he wasn’t quite certain of the message. She bit her lower lip and he couldn’t help but moan at the thought of kissing those full, rosy lips. 

_Stop it, homme,_ he chastised himself. Tonight was too important to lose it all because he got ahead of himself. He needed to keep a clear head. Stick to the plan. Afterwards—well afterwards, then he could _celebrate._

Pyro followed Remy’s gaze and groaned when he noticed exactly whom the object of his companion’s affection was. “She’s untouchable, mate. Even to you.”

“Oh?” Remy smirked. He liked a challenge and a femme like that was certainly a worthy challenge. One he’d spend a lifetime pursuing. 

“I know you like to think of yourself as a ladies man, but that frail is off limits. Especially to you. She’s Mystique’s daughter.” St. John shook his head. His hands dipped into his coat pockets and frowned when they came back empty.

“Ah, well that does put a different spin on things.” 

“It isn’t going to stop you, is it?” There was a nervous edge to St. John’s voice. 

It was well known that Mystique had a vengeful streak a mile wide and nobody wanted to get on her bad side. Especially the boys of her Brotherhood. Except Remy had never put much stock in keeping Mystique happy. In fact, he made a habit of irritating her whenever they were in the same room. Or, as the case might be—the same ship. 

A mischievous grin lit up Remy’s face. He couldn’t help it. Pyro had offered him a challenge the gambler in him couldn’t ignore. After all, he wasn’t called Gambit for nothing. The men had known each other too long not to know how this would play out. “Non. Until de femme herself says no, I plan t’ get t’ know her.”

“Your funeral.” St. John patted his pockets again.

“Need a light, mon ami?” Remy smirked as he flicked the wheel on the lighter. The dancing flame gave his face a devilish appearance. 

“That’s mine!” Pyro grabbed for the lighter, not caring as his palm passed through the flame. 

“Non. It’s mine now.” Gambit flicked the lighter close and tucked it into an inner pocket. “Though I might be persuaded t’ give it back if you facilitated an introduction between me and Mystique’s belle fille.” 

St. John Allerdyce wilted. This was not the first time Gambit had used the firebug’s predilection for fire against him. Remy had met Mystique and her Brotherhood during the War. Technically they’d all been on the same side back then. But, despite his scoundrel reputation, Remy hadn’t exactly approved of Mystique’s methods. Now, though, he wanted to forget it all—the War, the trenches, the things he’d done and the things he witnessed. The nightmares that remained. 

“Come on,” St. John grumbled as he trudged across the deck. His footing slipped as the ship rocked. “Let’s get this over with...”

“Don’t look so downtrodden, Pyro. Tonight is gonna be a good night. I can feel it in my bones.” Remy followed with a spring in his step. His eyes never strayed from the belle femme of his dreams, even as Mystique appeared at her daughter’s side.

**Author's Note:**

> This story was conceived while listening to _Rum Runner_ by Gaelic Storm. I had the image of Rogue and Gambit meeting on a rum runner like the one described in the song. From there the details started to fall into place and I started writing. And then, somewhere between the time I started to research and now (I started the story about a year ago, before putting it aside for a time) the facts contradicted themselves. 
> 
> Rum runners were real. During Prohibition, they’d bring in alcohol mostly from the Bahamas or Canada and remained in international waters off the shoreline. From there, people would come out to the ships, buy their alcohol, and head back. On the other hand, the song gives the feel of a party atmosphere aboard these ships ( _“Well if it’s gambling, or girls, or drink you want just ask ‘Havana Joe’/ You won’t be taxed so never mind, and once you’ve left the law behind/ You can have it all, whatever is your vice/ Just name your price/ It’s a free and easy floating paradise”_ and _“They’re giving out free samples boys, and the party’s underway/ Somebody brought a Calypso band, it’s loud enough to hear on land”_ ). Anyways, during my initial bout of research a year ago, I thought I found another source which confirmed this—but I didn’t record where I found it. Then, as I picked up the writing again, I couldn’t find the the same or similar research I thought I had.
> 
> And, well, I could either scrap the story, or go ahead with the initial idea as it came to me. There were elements of this story which I really wanted to explore and couldn’t come up with another setting which would allow me to play with the ideas in the way I wanted to. So, I decided to go ahead with the idea since my version of Mystique’s rum runner, which was always meant to serve as cover for her other illicit activities. The party atmosphere allowed her to bring her contacts aboard without rising extra suspicion. Besides, since when did Mystique ever do anything the conventional way? 
> 
> So, this is my apology to any Prohibition era scholars and enthusiasts. I’m certain there are many holes in this story and I hope they don’t pull you too far out of the reality I’ve created. I guess we could call this a double alternate universe—an AU of Romy and an AU of the 1920’s. And for everyone else, know that the rum runners were real, but they probably weren’t like the one which exists in this story. 
> 
> Hope you have fun with the story. ~rose


End file.
